Thursday, December 9, 2021

Mary Worth 3786

She is freaking walking her cat and dog together! Someone call YouTube.

10 comments:

  1. What’s with the quizzical “Wilbur?” Come on, Estelle, you could recognize that combover from half a mile away. Do you have a third leash with you? Keeping Wilbur on one should be one of your conditions for (ugh) taking him back.

    Cats have been part of our family for over 35 years, and not one of them would have condescended to walk on a leash. I hope Libby brings fleas and ticks into Estelle’s apartment.

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  2. "Stell, how are you?"

    "I've never been better. And you?"

    "I'm just moping around and thinking about jumping off Lookout Below Point again."

    "Super! Well, good luck with that. Nice seeing you again. Bye."

    -- Scottie McW.

    At least Wilbur isn't out walking his fish.

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  3. Libby hisses and unsheathes her claws at Weelbur. Pierre barks and snarls at him. Eshtelle gives a beatific smile as though she’s stoned on Mr Allora’s latest shipment of Colombian blow as Weelbur, despairing, throws himself into the lake.

    Unfortunately, he’s too fat to sink.

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  4. Can we please add Norma Tanega's wonderful song to the jukebox?
    https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=walking+my+cat+named+dog&qpvt=walking+my+cat+named+dog&view=detail&mid=C3121BF2BB1CCE04D08DC3121BF2BB1CCE04D08D&&FORM=VRDGAR&ru=%2Fvideos%2Fsearch%3Fq%3Dwalking%2Bmy%2Bcat%2Bnamed%2Bdog%26qpvt%3Dwalking%2Bmy%2Bcat%2Bnamed%2Bdog%26FORM%3DVDRE

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  5. Touche', KitKat! re: taking a cat for a walk. I can confirm that as well. I would also add seeing Libby wearing a little vest, that attempts to put such a vest on many cats would result in a royal rumble and being sliced to ribbons. Rowrrr.

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  6. Wonderful, Yahoonski! Perhaps Libby is a cat in dog's clothing..

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  7. What is going to happen when Estelle's cat meets Wilbur's fish?

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  8. KitKat and tcraft. Sorry, but I have to tell you I had a cat, Leo, who absolutely loved going out for a walk on his harness and leash. As soon as I’d get home from work, he’d run to the back door and sit there with his front leg up in the air as if he were taking an oath. He knew this was the leg I’d slip his harness over first. And he was not generally an easy going guy. He never sat on my lap and if I petted him more than three or four times I was asking to have my fingers handed back to me in shreds.

    hmmm

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  9. Friday’s strip: Barf alert! Barf alert! Women’s movement is set back 30 years!

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  10. Look on the bright side, everyone.

    Now all they have to do is go and spend a week grovelling before Mary in abject praise, and we can move on to a new story!

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